


Maybe We Can Still be Friends

by Giant_Woman



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Anal Sex, Complicated Relationships, Forced, Forced Orgasm, M/M, Rape, Self-Blame, non-con, penis crushing, this is not a happy story okay?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-04 09:12:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15838221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Giant_Woman/pseuds/Giant_Woman
Summary: *Spoilers for DanganRonpa 1 in Summary********This is a rape fic that takes place in an AU that asks what would happen if Chihiro didn't die and instead Mondo did something else terrible that night. Chihiro is actively experiencing very complicated feelings and trauma associated with this. His viewpoint may not reflect reality. Please do not read this if you aren't interested in reading about a traumatic event of sexual violence. Also, this is arguably a bit too focused on the emotions to be masturbation fodder, even for people who are into this kind of thing, but you know your tastes better than I do, so check it out if you want.





	Maybe We Can Still be Friends

“M-mondo please” my voice squeaks out of me, barely above a whisper, although I’m trying to scream. 

 

“What’dya fuckin’ mean please?!” I flinch back from him, but he only takes a step closer. “I can do whatever I want! I’m the strong one here, not you, you weak piece of shit!” 

 

“I didn’t mean…” I try to object but Mondo screams wordlessly, drowning out the weak noises I’m able to muster as he grasps around for the nearest thing on the floor. I catch sight of the dumbell a second before he does and there’s barely enough time to throw myself at it before he has time to grab it. I’m not sure what my plan is, but I know that if he were to get ahold of that dumbell before I can do something about it, it would all easily be over for me. What i end up doing is throwing myself, full force onto the floor, leaving it crushed between my abdomen and the ground. 

 

Mondo seems deterred from his original plan, if you could call anything he created in this state of mind a plan. His eyes are casting around erratically, teeth clenched, face red with the absolute fury of a wild animal. 

 

“I’m sorry!” It’s the first sound I’ve managed to make actually loud, and accompanying this newfound power of speech is a torrent of hot tears that pours down both of my cheeks at once, splashing to the floor in front of me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you!” 

 

“You think I fuckin’ care about your sorry?! You really think I give a shit that your fuckin’ sorry?! This ain’t about your fuckin’ secret you goddamn weak fuckin’ worthless excuse for a man!”

 

“Wh-what?” It seems my power to speak has left me again, because suddenly all I can do is sob profusely. I don’t want Mondo to hate me. I don’t want him to be mad at me, but I know deserve it. I’ve kept this secret from him. I’ve let him protect me, I let him make friends with me under false pretenses, and I’ve never shown him who I really am  But now, opening up, of course it’s too late. Of course it’s not something that I can just confess tonight and expect him not to care that I’ve lied to him. I’m not only weak, I’m stupid. Stupid to think this could ever be okay.

 

Mondo’s fingers close around my wrist and he wrenches my whole body up off of the dumbbell. For a second, I’m terrified he’ll grab for it with his other hand, but instead he uses it for my other wrist. He pulls me the few feet over to the weight bench, I don’t fight. I couldn’t ever hope to win. Mondo slams both of his hands, on top of mine, against the far side of the bench, bending me over it so I’ve got no choice but to lay face down. 

 

“See,” he says finally “This isn’t about your fuckin’ secret bullshit you just told me. This is about me, and you. This is about me, being stronger than you. This is about me. I’m strong  goddamnit! STRONG, DO YOU HEAR ME?!” 

 

He’s more roaring than screaming now and I can’t bring my mouth to do anything but wail. He pulls furiously at my skirt, rumpling it up on the top of my lower back and my exposed thighs start to show me the picture of what he has in mind. I panic, my words, so hard to utter a moment ago, now begin out of me with an unstoppable force.

 

“Please, please, please, please don’t do this” I scream uncontrollably. I briefly wish the words spilling from my mouth could make sense, but I don’t think it could make a difference; Mondo takes no notice of anything I’ve said. He’s pulling down the back of the girl’s panties I’m wearing, unable to get to the front because of the way my legs are pressed together. 

 

“So let’s see how good a fuckin’ chick you make.” His words can’t be any more considered than mine, but they’re such a direct contradiction to his statement before that my begging can’t help but take the form of the my confusion.

 

“I don’t understand! Is this about me and me being a boy?! If it is, I’ll be good! I’ll be good, I swear!”  Why I’m promising Mondo I’m going to be good, I couldn’t say, but the words just won’t stop coming. He ignores me again, moving his hands from my wrists to  as far around each of my hips as they will go and throwing me further forward. 

 

“Ow!! Mondo, please! It hurts!” He’s put me at such an angle that the front of my hips are crushing my penis into the bench. “You’re hurting me! Please!” 

 

“Stop your fuckin’ cryin’!!” He rages, forcing my hips to grind further forward against the cushion beneath me. Under the small cushioned layer, I can feel hard metal digging into me. “If I wanted it to stop hurtin’ I’d fuckin’ stop it but you’re a weak little bitch and you can’t do a damn thing about it, ‘cause I’m strong! I’m fucking strong, you hear me?!”

 

“Yes” I scream. “I hear you I hear you!” Mondo presses his own hips against me and he must have moved his pants out of the way sometime in the commotion, because the next thing I feel is his penis pressed up against me and ready for him  to push inside. He’s breathing heavily and begins laughing, from what I can only assume is anticipation. 

 

“I don’t want you to hurt me. I don’t want it to hurt. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I just want to be friends!!” 

 

But he’s already forced his way inside me by the time I’ve finished. I scream harder, wordlessly now. It’s rough and full of friction, so I don’t think that it can feel much better for him, but he’s forced himself inside me anyway. I can feel myself start to tear as he thrusts further inside. 

 

“You’re weak!” He drowns out my screaming with more roaring of his own. “Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak, weak!!” Mondo repeats with every thrust inside me and the pain only gets worse. He puts his full weight on top of me, grinding downward where I’m pinned between our combined weight and the bench beneath us. 

 

“You’re crushing me! You’re gonna crush it! Please don’t!” 

 

“I’m gonna crush your useless fucking dick then! It ain’t like you liked it anyway!” Mondo is more deliberate now, pushing downward, but continuing his assault from behind. I am suddenly shocked to find the blood flow is trying to make me hard somehow, in the midst of all this. I can’t fathom it. I hate this, I don’t want any of this, but in spite of that, more and more blood is forcing its way into my penis. It doesn’t have anywhere to go, still stuck against the bench, but the blood keeps flowing, making it more and more sensitive to the pain its experiencing. I cannot comprehend what is happening, but it’s continuing to happen anyway somehow. I’m screaming, tears pouring down my face, sobbing too hard to continue begging. Mondo starts up his chorus again.

 

“You’re weak! Weak, weak, weak, weak, weak!” I’m throbbing in pain. He’s exposed my most sensitive and embarrassing places, then stretched and torn them open and crushed another beneath me. I hurt all over, from the obvious places he’s trying to hurt, to the weak, dull ache on the front of my stomach where I landed on the dumbell, to the sharp, ragged sensation in my chest that tells me my heart is broken. But still, here the pleasure is building and my screams are turning to moans and gasps and squeaks while the sensation all tries to mix together into something inexplicably wonderful and terrible and white-hot and pleasurable and mind-numbing and deafening, and thought stopping and good.

 

An orgasm can happen any time I suppose. Anatomy works such that stimulation in certain places can’t really help but be pleasurable, even if it’s also unwanted and painful. I suppose that’s one of the many things that makes rape so extra traumatic. These thoughts return to me as the spasms course through my body and I can hear myself scream in quite a different tone. I feel the cum soak through my panties and start to pool on the smooth fabric of the bench, but it’s a slow process. I turn my head around and Mondo eyes are still wild, his mouth still forming the word “weak” over and over again. He’s out of control and he’s hardly going to take this as reason to stop. My mouth closes itself and the screams die down. Tears still flow freely down my face, but I’ve stopped needing to scream or to beg. This isn’t about me, I realize, the whole situation presenting itself to me in a stark clarity. This is about him, his need to feel strong and something I’ve said has threatened that. 

 

I can feel the pressure building inside me again. It’s coming more and more, underneath the pain in my body and in my mind and in my heart, I can feel the pleasure just pulsating inside me and I cum again, this time more aware of the process. I notice the muscles in my body start to clench and then relax. The spasms seem to set Mondo over the edge; I’m still looking back at his face, although I could have a million miles away for all it mattered up to this moment. He pulls back, still dazed, but seemingly satisfied. He stands up and I immediately do the same, desperate to get my weight off of my penis. I want to investigate the damage done, but I’m terrified to move any further. My distant clarity is starting to wear off now and the fear is returning to me. 

 

Mondo has turned away from me and stormed to the other side of the room. “I’m strong! Strong, strong strong, strong” he’s repeating himself again, but this time it’s getting quieter and quieter as he continues. 

 

“Get out.” He says, barely above a whisper. “Get out or I’ll hurt you again.” I back up, stomach bubbling with fear. 

 

At first I pause, but I know I’ll listen when he turns to face me, tears in his eyes, and continues, just as softly. “I don’t want to hurt you again!”

 

So, I think, as I run desperately down the corridor towards the safety of my room, maybe we can still be friends.


End file.
